Not on Deaf Ears
by Ana
Summary: On a mission to a xenophobic planet, Qui-Gon is injured and Obi-Wan risks his own life attempting to keep his Master alive.


Title: Not on Deaf Ears Author: Anastasia  Categories: angst, h/c, romance Rating: PG-13 for possible pre-slash connotations Pairing: Q/O Status: Complete Archive: M_A 

Spoilers: Yes, for the JA book series. 

Summary: On a mission to a xenophobic planet, Qui-Gon is injured and Obi-Wan risks his own life attempting to keep his Master alive as they await rescue. To pass the time, Obi-Wan recounts stories that include growing up in the Temple, meeting Qui-Gon for the first time, and his fight to conquer feelings of self-doubt and loneliness while being passed up again and again in his quest to be someone's padawan. (High amounts of h/c and angst ensue, with the usual 'Ana twists'…) 

Feedback: Please… When I don't hear from anyone, I get a complex... : ) Flames, should you feel the need to send them, will be cheerfully forwarded to the ferret, who will hunt down all flamers and bite their ankles. Thank you! 

Disclaimers: We all know who these characters belong to (Thank you, Mr. Lucas!), so there's no question as to who's getting all the credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful Jedi. (Hint: It's not me...) Disappointing as that is, I'd just like to borrow them to tell this story... 

Inspiration: Sick in bed for several days last month, I had a craving to read/write a story with just some gentle romance and angsty, caring, h/c stuff. This is the result. 

Thank yous: This story, I'm very happy to say, was followed and edited step-by-step by Calysta Rose. We generally used irc to hold our brainstorming/editing sessions, but email was in there, too. Caly did a wonderful job commenting, suggesting word changes and ideas, and helping me to make this the best story it could be. I've never written a story before using a 'live beta/editor' and it's been a *wonderful* experience! Look for Caly and I to be teaming up as writer/editor again in the future. : ) Thank you for *all* your support, Caly! You are just the best! 

Thanks also to Regs, Kaly, Mistress Elektra and Amber Biles for giving the story a 'test drive' before its posting. Their helpful comments and suggestions have been woven into the story, making it just that much better. Thank you! 

Note: Calysta Rose has suggested a follow-up story to this one, to show how everything turns out and to tell things from Qui-Gon's perspective. If all goes well, I should be starting on that story almost immediately. 

Another note: / / denotes telepathy between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon; / / / / denotes Obi-Wan's storytelling; * * or italics represents Obi-Wan's self-thoughts. 

Not on Deaf Ears 

by Anastasia (padawan_ana@yahoo.com) 

"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan brushed long hair back from his master's damp, pale face. "Master, can you hear me?" Gently, he stroked a finger along Qui-Gon's cheek, willing him to open his eyes. 

Obi-Wan lifted the makeshift washcloth, fashioned from the belt of his robes, from Qui-Gon's forehead. In the burning mid-day heat, the cloth no longer held even a hint of moisture. And Qui-Gon's face was red from the unforgiving sun. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan stood up. His legs and back protested the movement, and he was forced to spend a moment stretching his aching muscles back into compliance. Stiffly Obi-Wan covered the ten-meter distance to the nearly-dry river bed that had become their savior. At the water's edge, he washed and re-wet the soft brown material, filled the small metal cup from the supply pack, and moved back to Qui-Gon's side as swiftly as his abused body would allow. 

Obi-Wan cooled his master's face and neck before once again draping the cloth across the high forehead. With his hand beneath Qui-Gon's head and neck for support, Obi-Wan gently positioned the other man so that he could take in a bit of the water. Holding the cup up to the unresponsive lips, he let the water fall, drop by precious drop, into Qui-Gon's mouth. 

"There, Master, isn't that better? I know you must be thirsty." Obi-Wan could almost convince himself that Qui-Gon was drinking and swallowing of his own accord, until he poured too much at once and the excess ran from the corners of the Jedi master's slack mouth. Obi-Wan shut his eyes against the all too painful reminder of their predicament. 

* * * 

They had been here ten days. Ten days with only a communication device, their lightsabers, a small utility/med pack Obi-Wan had managed to come away with, and each other. Correction: They had been ten days *here*, in this treeless, barren area, but it had taken them three days to get this far. And it would likely be many more before the Council could send a ship to retrieve them. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been left on the planet to speak to the Trellisians, a xenophobic, technologically paranoid race. In an unprecedented move, the Trellisian co-leaders had contacted the Council, seeking Jedi intervention as another race threatened to overtake their lands. The Council had agreed, cautiously, and had assigned Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to the task. Qui-Gon had insisted they be allowed to take their lightsabers, hidden carefully in the folds of their robes, and Yoda had insisted they carry a communications device. 

* * * 

Obi-Wan used the sleeve of his tunic to gently wipe away the spilled water. "See Master? No harm done," he said, as much to reassure himself as to keep up the one-sided conversation he'd begun some days ago. No harm, indeed, he thought ironically. In reality, there had been plenty of harm done. 

* * * 

Upon reaching the outskirts of Trellis, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had felt a darkness. Not the Dark Side necessarily, but some quality that left them bristling with unease, nonetheless. Entering the city, they had been immediately surrounded by Trellisian troops, looked upon as dangerous intruders rather than the peacekeepers they had been summoned as. 

There had been too many for two Jedi to fight against and the army had been brutal, to say the least. They fought with spear-like weapons and some sort of chemical/energy spheres the Jedi had never come across. Upon impact, the spheres broke open, sending up yellow clouds of dust. After the first one had shattered against the front of Qui-Gon's robes, they had taken care to breathe the clean air while they could and to fight while trying not to inhale the chemical. 

Before they had been literally beaten and run out of town, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had heard enough to know that Trellis's co-leaders had not thought to tell the inhabitants of their coming. More than likely they had thought it unwise to stir up trouble any sooner than necessary. But the plan had worked against them, as the angry, paranoid people had forced the Jedi, and thus their one hope for assistance against the neighboring threat, away. 

As they covered the terrain back to their rendezvous point, Obi-Wan silently cursed the Trellisian's paranoid culture. Because of the technology ban, the pilot had been forced to land their ship far outside the city itself, leaving the Jedi with several days of walking to do. 

Their injuries were not severe, but several kilometers from the city it had been necessary for them to stop and dress their wounds. Of their supplies, they'd only managed to come away with one utility/med pack. Everything else they'd carried had been lost or taken in the scuffle. And the contents of the kit would barely be enough to last the three day trip back to their rendezvous site. 

Sitting on the hard ground, wrapping his bruised and bloody knuckles, Obi-Wan's attention had shifted to his master. Kneeling in the sand, calmly cleaning a cut on his forearm, Qui-Gon was nearly gasping for breath. Their journey had been fast-paced, but not overly so, and certainly not taxing for one trained as a Jedi. 

"Master? Are you okay?" 

"…fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had tried to assure him. "Just a bit…winded from the battle…and the walk." 

"Master…" 

Qui-Gon knew when his apprentice would settle for nothing less than the truth. He smiled sadly at his padawan's persistence. "I think it was the chemical weapons they used, Obi-Wan. I can still feel the remnants of the dust in my lungs, and it is making breathing…a challenge." 

The picture of the yellow sphere exploding against Qui-Gon's chest flashed through Obi-Wan's mind. They had both been around the dust, but Qui-Gon had taken the full brunt of one of the weapons. They had to get back to the rendezvous site. 

* * * 

They had made it, Obi-Wan thought, but Qui-Gon had not weathered the trip away from the city well. He had been weak and had only grown weaker, in need of rest and more medical care than Obi-Wan could provide. More than that, the Force-net Obi-Wan had built around the Jedi master to keep him upright and mobile had severely depleted his own waning energy. 

As soon as they had cleared the Trellis border, Obi-Wan had contacted the Council—only to find that no transport was available to retrieve them. Insane with the heat and concern for his master's life, Obi-Wan had snapped. To hells with the Force or the disciplines of being a perfect apprentice! To hells with regulations and correctness and keeping one's place! It hurt! *He* hurt. And for once he wasn't going to cover up his feelings with Jedi pride or stoicism. 

Even a ship ready for immediate departure would still be two and a half days away—and it was clear from Master Windu's words that such a ship was not available. The situation was frustrating beyond belief. Qui-Gon's health was failing and Obi-Wan was powerless to prevent it. 

His outburst had been witnessed, if not acknowledged, with a furrowed brow and a bland look. After which Master Windu had firmly assured Obi-Wan that a ship would be sent as soon as possible to retrieve them. Bitterly, Obi-Wan decided it was an easy thing for the master to say. He wasn't here, in this place, standing helplessly over the body of Qui-Gon Jinn. 

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was dry and broken as he came around. 

Obi-Wan tucked the commlink into his tunic and moved to his master's side. "Master?" Kneeling down, Obi-Wan tenderly cupped Qui-Gon's cheek in the palm of his hand, watching blue eyes slide closed at the touch. He was so vulnerable it made Obi-Wan's heart ache. It would be best for him not to know of the conversation that had just taken place. 

"Mace?" Qui-Gon's eyes remained closed as the question was whispered. 

So he had heard. Or at the very least he had heard the voice of his closest friend. Maybe he could still be saved from knowing the full truth. 

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said, answering his master's question simply. 

"Coming…for us…?" 

"Master, you need to rest," Obi-Wan told him, attempting to avoid the inevitable. "If you move onto your side I could rub your back for you. I know you…" 

"Obi-Wan..." 

Obi-Wan stopped mid-sentence. 

Qui-Gon took in a painful breath. "Truth…" he wheezed. 

There was no avoiding it, then. "They *are* sending someone, Master." It was Obi-Wan's turn to draw in a deep breath. "But…it may be some time. There has been an emergency which requires all available ships to be on Coruscant." 

When Qui-Gon didn't answer, Obi-Wan selfishly hoped that he had fallen asleep. 

"…sorry…" The response, when it came, was said so quietly Obi-Wan almost missed it. 

Obi-Wan blinked. "*You're* sorry, Master? For what?" 

"…sorry…to leave…you…" 

Obi-Wan's heart leapt into his throat and tears stung his eyes. "Master! You are not going to d…" 

Qui-Gon raised a weak arm. "…to leave you…alone to deal…with me. I am afraid I…will be of no help. You will be…alone…until they…come for us. I can feel…" A fit of coughing overtook him, and Qui-Gon curled in on himself, attempting to stop the painful convulsions. 

"Master! Breathe!" Obi-Wan held the man as he fought desperately against the alien chemical taking over his lungs and body. In his grasp, Qui-Gon gasped, face gray, lips blue from the lack of oxygen. 

* * * 

It had been the first of many such episodes. It was nerve-wracking and Obi-Wan was feeling the effects sharply. With no food, little water and no energy to meditate, he could feel himself weakening. Black spots swam through his vision when his eyes were open, black clouds of doubt crowded his brain the moment his eyes were closed. 

And try as he might, Obi-Wan couldn't bring Qui-Gon to consciousness. The most he got were a few mumbled words now and then, as his master spoke out in delirium, but nothing intelligible. * * * 

Obi-Wan yawned and rubbed a hand over tired eyes. This marked the fifteenth day and the burden of mere survival lay heavy on his young shoulders. The nights here were cold and he hadn't slept much or eaten anything since leaving Trellis. But Qui-Gon's well-being depended on him being awake and alert. And so he would be. 

/Master?/ Obi-Wan attempted the most basic of communications. /Master, can you hear me?/ 

/ ~ / 

If he'd had to categorize Qui-Gon's response, Obi-Wan would have called it white noise. It was *something*, but hardly more than static where mind talk was concerned. More like an echo of what Qui-Gon's brain heard, processed, and sent back in Obi-Wan's direction. 

In other words, there was very little hope that Qui-Gon knew himself anymore, let alone Obi-Wan. Grief welled inside him and Obi-Wan would have sobbed if he'd had the strength left to do so. 

* * * 

Laying Qui-Gon's head in his lap, Obi-Wan made another attempt at feeding water to the unconscious man. One drop. Two. Every drop was a small victory. Six. Eight. Qui-Gon began to gurgle and choke on the amount of water that would barely have sustained a small bird. 

Quickly lifting the wide shoulders higher, Obi-Wan's hand deftly traced soothing circles over Qui-Gon's back. His heart clenched painfully beneath his ribs as he Force-calmed his nerves and his voice. The coughing attacks, more and more frequent with every passing hour, were wreaking havoc on Obi-Wan's already frayed nerves. "It's all right, Master," he whispered into Qui-Gon's ear. "You'll be fine. Just relax and let it go." 

Qui-Gon's body shook violently, a combination of the misdirected water and the toxin in his system, and Obi-Wan feared he would injure himself internally if the coughing didn't stop soon. He heard Qui-Gon's teeth rattling, saw the trail of blood leaking from his master's mouth that meant a bitten tongue—or worse. Settling Qui-Gon's head back against his chest, Obi-Wan placed a hand on either side of the flushed face, concentrating. 

Centering himself, Obi-Wan focussed on the body before him. The Force tendrils he sent out coiled smoothly around painfully contracting lungs, pounding heart, ravaged throat muscles. The fit of coughing lessened and eventually ceased. The tendrils, still curled throughout Qui-Gon's abused body, continued to smooth out the wrinkles of agony, until the Jedi master's form lay limp and still in Obi-Wan's arms. His breathing was still loud in his chest, but it was there. 

"Hold on, Master, for just a while longer," Obi-Wan said into the emptiness. "Master Windu will send someone for us soon." Silently he added, *I hope.* 

* * * 

Days went by. Huddled under the cloak-blanket, Obi-Wan shivered. Instinctively, he moved closer to his master, tightening his hold on the unconscious man. For Obi-Wan, reality seemed to fade a bit with each passing hour, but he knew that, above all, Qui-Gon must be protected. To lose his master now would be to lose himself and Obi-Wan would fight tooth and nail against both for as long as he was physically and mentally able. 

Having Qui-Gon near him, where he could listen to the beat of his heart and the soft sound of his breathing soothed Obi-Wan's soul. But he was still cold. Teeth chattering, Obi-Wan tried to think of something to take his mind off the long, empty night. He knew sleep would not come to him; he couldn't allow himself that escape anymore. It was for the best, he knew. Obi-Wan's falling asleep could mean the difference between life and death for Qui-Gon. The shudder that passed through Obi-Wan then was not from the hollow chill of the night. 

Some time later, when his commlink activated, exhaustion and numbness prevented Obi-Wan's brain from even processing the sound. Drifting between thoughts of the past and his constant monitoring of Qui-Gon, it was several minutes before Obi-Wan recognized the signal for what it was. 

"Hello? Padawan Kenobi?" 

Sluggishly, Obi-Wan shifted stone-cold limbs until he was able to sit up. He fumbled clumsily for the communications device, icy hands refusing to cooperate. 

"Padawan Kenobi? Are you there? Please signal if you are receiving this transmission." 

Frustrated, Obi-Wan finally managed to get his fingers around the link, only to have it fall from his frozen fingers and roll away into the dark. The curses that accompanied his search for the missing device would have made a Tusken Raider blush. Finally, he located the link and, with two hands, managed to press the 'receive' button. 

"Ah, Padawan, thank the Force. We were beginning to worry." 

Obi-Wan didn't answer, heart racing, throat too tight to speak. Were they to be rescued at last? Silently, he waited for the voice on the other end to continue. 

"In any case," the man began again. "I am pilot T'Nai Nagursu and we are en route to your position. We came as quickly as we were able." 

*Twenty-two days is QUICK?* Obi-Wan thought explosively. *Hardly.* But still he held his tongue. 

"We understand that you have need of a medic," the pilot said. 

This time Obi-Wan did not hesitate. "Master Jinn's health is in serious jeopardy. He needs immediate medical attention." He swallowed convulsively, dry mouth and dryer throat refusing to cooperate. 

There was a slight pause, as if the man were consulting with others aboard the vessel. "And you, Padawan? How is your health?" 

Obi-Wan shook his head in refusal, even though the pilot could not see him. "My master's fate may depend on your haste. Please concentrate on that and hurry." 

His question circumvented, the knight pilot did not ask again. "There has been an incident with a biological weapon on Cestus III," he explained, "which has taken most of the healers away from Coruscant. But I am bringing Masters Yoda and Windu and I'm confident they will be able to provide for Master Jinn's needs." 

Obi-Wan felt his hard-won focus beginning to abandon him. "Please. Hurry." he said desperately. 

"Understood. ETA is fifty-eight hours. Nagursu out." 

Obi-Wan collapsed back against the hard ground. Fifty-eight hours! It might as well have been a year. But help *was* on the way, and for that he had to be grateful. 

/Did you hear that, Master?/ he asked into Qui-Gon's mind. /They're coming for us. Soon we will be rescued and you will be well again./ 

Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes, warming his cheeks as they slid down his face. Moving to lay his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, he wept in joy and relief…and, in some small part, fear of what the next two and a half days would bring. 

* * * 

With morning came the ever-relentless sun, forcing Obi-Wan to fashion the cloaks into a crude shade-fly as he did every morning. The protection wasn't much, but what little sun block it did provide meant less exposure to the elements for Qui-Gon. In his condition, he could ill-afford sunstroke or further dehydration. It was of no concern to Obi-Wan that the makeshift tent provided shade for only one of them. It was not himself he was worried about. 

After a slow walk to the river bed to soak himself and the clothes he wore in hopes that his day in the blazing heat would be bearable, Obi-Wan wet the washcloth, filled the tin cup and moved unsteadily back to Qui-Gon. 

Fifty-two hours more, if all went as planned. As he cooled his master's face and force-fed him the water, Obi-Wan's mind wandered backward in time. Back to his first days as Qui-Gon's padawan…back to his first mission with Qui-Gon, before Qui-Gon was his master…back to his earliest memories in the creche, when he was a toddler not more than three years old. 

Setting the empty cup aside, Obi-Wan shifted Qui-Gon's head and shoulders until they rested in his lap. It still allowed Qui-Gon to remain under the shade cover, but the contact and closeness filled a need in Obi-Wan: an urgent need to know that he was doing all he could to keep his master alive. The unforgiving sun beat down on the padawan, blistering and peeling his fair skin, infusing his blonde hair with strawberry highlights, but Obi-Wan showed no notice of it. 

/Shall I tell you a story, my master?/ Obi-Wan thought as he absently stroked the silvering, tangled strands of hair in his lap. /You were always the one who told me stories when I was troubled by nightmares or was too sick to sleep./ 

Obi-Wan had loved listening to his master's deep, calming voice. He had sometimes been too frightened or delirious to understand all the words, but the tone had never failed to soothe jangled nerves and relax him into sleep or healing. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, tired beyond belief. /I will have to tell them to you this way, Master,/ he said somewhat sadly. /I fear I have no energy left to speak them aloud./ 

* * * 

/ /Once upon a time there was a little boy. His force-sensitivity was discovered by two knights out on a diplomatic mission to the boy's homeworld. With very little protesting on the part of the toddler's parents, he was taken back with the knights to the Temple for training. 

/ /At the Temple, the little boy could feel the Force all around him. He was no longer isolated, as he had been on his home planet. He no longer felt different or was looked upon as an oddity simply because he was the only one aware of the influence and power of the Force. But even though the little boy knew that those at the Temple cared about him and would care *for* him, he was scared.// 

/Did you know that, Master?/ Obi-Wan thought as an aside to his story. /Did you know there was a small, frightened child at the Temple all those years ago, who focussed on your serene expression, your calming presence, whenever he felt sad or overwhelmed? You were always there in the beginning. Busy with your duties, your missions, your padawan, but always there at least in the background. And I watched you. Even though I was only another program trainee to you, I think I knew, even then, that we were meant to be together some day./ 

/ /The little boy was smaller than most of the other children his age, gaining him a bit of favor among the masters and thus some occasional jealousy among the trainees. At three, he had a quick wit and a tendency to run about, expressing his excitement and enthusiasm. His behavior and his hair, a shocking bunch of red that never laid properly on the top, earned him the nickname 'Rooster'. 

/ /As the little boy got older, he began to hold back, convincing himself that the other trainees would always be bigger, better, faster, further ahead than he, although the masters insisted otherwise. One day in the practice gym, one of the more well-known masters stopped by to watch the six year olds train. 

/ /At the back of the crowd was the littlest trainee, just as skilled as the rest of the children, but looking not a day over four and scared of his shadow. As the class master gave instructions for the initiates to pair off for sparring practice, the visiting master made his way over to the little boy, bowing low and then kneeling before him. 

/ /'Would you consent to be my partner and give an old man a bit of practice?' the Jedi master asked the little boy, ruffling his now strawberry-blond hair. 

/ /The boy's eyes went wide with astonishment and his heart nearly beat out of his small chest. This master—Master *Qui-Gon Jinn*—wanted to spar with *him*! 

/ /'I…I…' the little boy sputtered. He didn't want to be disrespectful to this master or the master teaching the class, but his mind was telling him that this man could not possibly want *him*. He was so *small*…so unimportant. 

/ /Immediately, there were large hands on the boy's slim shoulders. 

/ /'*Never* think that, little one,' the master said, as if he could read the youngster's mind. 'Judging oneself too harshly is like judging one's opponents too liberally. Both can lead to dangerous ends.' 

/ /The initiate stood wide-eyed and mesmerized, barely able to think. 

/ /The tall master stood, rising to three times the little boy's height. 'Now, little Tiger Eyes, let me see what you have that has the other masters constantly talking.' / /The six year old's face lit up. This master thought he had eyes like a tiger. Not funny hair or short legs or a baby face, but tiger eyes. Now *that* was something to cherish. The little boy wrapped himself in the pet name as if it were the warmest of blankets. And the other masters were talking about him? *Him?* Suddenly, the little boy knew where he wanted to spend his life: At the side of this giant man./ / 

/Do you remember that day, Master?/ Obi-Wan wondered. /I have never forgotten it. It was the first time I felt like my life was worth something. Not that I ever felt worthless, but for the first time in my life I think I understood just what life in the Temple was all about. It wasn't about competing with others or keeping up with the crowd; it was about doing the best I was capable of and pushing myself to be more. 

/You taught that to me, Master. In just one class period, you taught an unsure, tiger-eyed boy more about himself and his place in the universe then he'd learned in his six years of life. And although we barely spoke or interacted in the years that followed, my heart and soul sang every time you smiled in my direction or called me by your name for me. There are many people who care for the children of Coruscant, Master, but attachments are not encouraged much outside the padawan/master training bonds. With you, I felt safe. Even if I hardly saw you. It wasn't like having a father again, exactly, but it did feel a bit like being home./ / 

Mentally exhausted from his reminiscing, Obi-Wan drifted off to sleep, mind filled with warm memories, arms wrapped protectively around the man who had changed his life forever. 

* * * 

Obi-Wan jerked awake. Muzzily, he wondered what had woken him. Woken him? Guilt came crashing down around him. He had fallen asleep? With his master's life literally in his hands? Before he could mentally curse himself further, he felt it again: the sensation that had woken him. 

Qui-Gon's body convulsed, limbs spasming in uncontrolled reaction. When it was over, he lay limply in Obi-Wan's arms, head lolling to one side. Until it happened again. And again. 

/Master!/ Obi-Wan cried into his Master's mind. /Focus on my voice. Focus on *me*. I know you can hear me. I know you can fight this!/ He mentally pleaded with Qui-Gon even as he moved from behind him and lowered him to the cool night ground. Almost on contact, Qui-Gon's body convulsed in a spasm much worse than the others. Unprotected, his head slammed into the hard sand with an audible crack. 

Laying his hands on Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan used what little access he still had to the Force. To his dismay, the convulsions continued, multiplying and gathering strength. Terrified that he was seeing the horrible end to their nightmarish mission just two days before their rescue, Obi-Wan wrapped his master in his arms instead. If Qui-Gon was to die, he would die with the Jedi Mantra of Peace echoing in his mind. 

Trembling, Obi-Wan readied himself for the mantra. He steadied his breathing, brought his focus inward, tearing his thoughts away from the man suffering before him. Finding and capturing his center was difficult, his control tenuous at best, but Obi-Wan fought for it. Closing his eyes, he pictured his master, well and whole, standing before him, looking down upon him with eyes as clear and blue as a mountain lake. 

/Force, bring peace to this man, a faithful servant of the light. /Force, bring calm to my master in his time of need. /Force, bring healing strength to my master in his time of suffering.../ 

* * * 

Surfacing from his meditation, Obi-Wan first became aware of the oppressive heat and the prickling sensation in his blood-starved feet and legs. Shifting his limbs with caution, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth against the pain. Fifteen hours had passed, if his time sense still functioned properly. For fifteen hours Obi-Wan had knelt and chanted over his master. It was no wonder he felt exhausted. 

Qui-Gon no longer convulsed in his arms—but he lived. He had survived. Barely. Reaching out tentatively into the Force, Obi-Wan found himself able to access it more easily than before. It hummed and swirled around him in energizing circles. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come. 

/Master?/ There was no response, but he sensed that Qui-Gon's mind had conquered his body's urge to fight the rest it urgently needed. /Shall I continue my story, Master?/ he asked. /I think it would help take your mind off thoughts best ignored right now./ Curling beside his master, Obi-Wan began again in earnest. 

* * * 

/ /The little boy passed from early childhood to the age when some of his peers began making the transition from initiate to padawan learner. One by one, he watched as creche mates and close friends were chosen from the group and assigned to masters. And he was truly happy for those who were picked, for it meant those trainees were moving along their life-paths towards knighthood. 

/ /Perhaps it was naivete, or perhaps, as the boy's master described it later, it was selflessness, but the boy felt no remorse or jealously as his friends were taken as padawans. Such was the way of the Temple and all initiates were trained to know and accept it. But one of the initiates, a rough-around-the-edges boy named Bruck Chun, began to have doubts about himself…and those doubts were transferred to the boy, who unknowingly fell head first into the same well of doubt. 

/ /'We're *never* going to be picked as padawans,' Bruck sulked day in and day out. 'Never. We're just not good enough. We never will be.' 

/ /The boy knew that Bruck was upset and being flippant, but his words struck a cord. Why *were* all the others being chosen ahead of him? Was there some weakness, some flaw in his training that caused him to be passed over week after week, month after month? He was nearly twelve now, and if he wasn't chosen within the next year he'd lose his chance at being a Jedi forever. The thought sent a panic through the boy that he refused to acknowledge. Flirting with darkness was something he would not allow himself to do. 

/ /The boy continued to train hard. He worked up to and past his potential as the wise Master Jinn had encouraged him to do so many years before. But still he remained without a master. As did Bruck./ / 

* * * 

On the outskirts of Trellisia, Obi-Wan drifted in and out of consciousness. At times he could barely recall where he was or even who he was, but he always seemed to be able to pick up the story he was spinning and weave another chapter for the man he was almost certain was dying in his arms. The action was becoming ingrained within him, a way of putting his memories into words before he was unable to share them with anyone again. 

* * * 

/ /'Master Jinn is arriving at the Temple today, Obi-Wan!' Bruck said some months later. His face was flushed with excitement. 'He's coming to watch the initiates train!' 

/ /It had been one of the many times the venerable master had returned to the Temple between missions. He was not there often, and the boy had a feeling that he was not happy when he was there. Perhaps there were too many memories for him within the walls of the Temple. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable among the other masters, thinking they saw him only as one who had failed and lost an apprentice to the Dark Side. Perhaps when Master Jinn returned to the Temple he was pressured to observe the current initiates and urged to choose one as a padawan, even though he didn't feel ready to do so. The thought saddened the boy. Why should the others force Master Jinn into something he didn't wish to do? As Master Jinn's own master, Master Yoda should have had more compassion. 

/ /It was all speculation, anyway, the boy told himself. No one knew for certain whether Master Jinn was ever really looking for a new padawan. He did attend some of practice sessions, by choice or with outside encouragement, but he never seemed to have the same look about him as other masters who observed for the purpose of actively seeking padawans. 

/ /When the boy didn't respond to his earlier exclamation, Bruck added, 'He's coming to watch *us*, Obi-Wan! They say he's coming to choose a new padawan!' For a moment, the boy was almost caught up in the other's passion. 'I'm going to perform the Stone on Stone kata while he's watching. Surely he'll be interested in an initiate who can perform such an advanced exercise.' And without even a pause, he added, 'It's too bad you don't know that one.' 

/ /For the very first time, reality crashed down on the boy, plunging into his stomach like a transport full of rock. Reaching out tentatively, he could *feel* the other's insincerity, just as surely as if it were written across the other initiate's forehead. He could feel that Bruck had no real investment in his feelings or the feelings of others—only in his own. Bruck pretended to include him in his happiness, but Obi-Wan knew now that his only interest was himself. 

/ /His discovery of Bruck's shallow intentions gave the boy pause. If he were only interested in showing off his skills in front of Master Jinn, there was a possibility that he was becoming desperate enough to veer from the path which all initiates followed—a path of unity and group interest, rather than self-promotion and self-interest—which would prove dangerous indeed. Mentally, the boy took a step back from the other initiate. Physically, he stood his ground. 

/ /'And what of the rest of us, Bruck?' the boy put forth quietly. 'Do you presume to put yourself above your brother and sister initiates, where a choosing is concerned? Above the Force?' A challenge, and yet not. 'You know as well as any of us that it is not only skill and perseverance which leads a student to a master, but the Force as well. If a pairing is meant to be, it will be. If the Force is not strong between a master and a padawan, if their paths are not meant to cross, then the master and the padawan will be lead to choose another.' 

/ /The boy didn't know why he felt the need to talk to Bruck of the choosing. All initiates, from the pre-trainees on up, were aware of how it worked. What he didn't understand was why Bruck seemed unaware of it—or unwilling to accept it. Even in his most melancholy meditations, when he could not stop the thoughts of hopelessness that filled his mind, the boy did not know near the amount of self-doubt and desperation he felt from Bruck. It worried him. 

/ /Bruck did not take the boy's gentle reminder to heart. Instead, he lashed out. 'What would someone as lithe and graceful as Master Jinn want with someone like *you*? You can barely perform the age-group katas and you didn't master the most basic meditations until you were *six*!' 

/ /The words stung the boy and he flinched before he could stop himself. Why was Bruck saying those things? 

/ /'A tall, majestic Jedi master needs a padawan who can be his equal,' Bruck continued. 'Not someone who will sit at his feet and look up to him for support and guidance every minute of every day. Why do you think he calls you Tiger Eyes? Likely because you remind him of a house cat who will follow his every beck and call. Master Jinn *will* see the qualities he admires most in a padawan in me. Who, after all, is more like Xanatos, you or me?'/ 

/ /It was an odd thing to say and it sent chills down the boy's spine. All of the senior trainees knew, at least in minor detail, what had happened to Xanatos. Why would Bruck want to be like him? The boy's thoughts tumbled round as he pictured Master Jinn's last padawan. Xanatos was tall and slender, with a slim build and a powerful, sleek sparring style. His eyes were like fire and ice, his muscled arms like bands of steel. And his temper like an explosive waiting for ignition. Was *that* what Bruck envisioned for himself? The boy shivered at the thought. 

/ /Master Koth appeared suddenly from around the corner, asking if everything was in order. Surprised at the master's presence, the two boys nodded quickly and mutually dropped the subject. Nothing came of the confrontation, which the boy believed would have turned physical if Bruck had been allowed to continue his tirade./ / 

/You did come to the senior initiates' lightsaber drilling that day, Master. Do you remember it? I had purposefully positioned myself as far away from Bruck as I could, and I knew you felt something was wrong because I saw you glancing between the two of us all practice. I prayed that you wouldn't be able to tell *what* had begun the rift between us. 

/You left the practice before any of the trainees had a chance to approach you and Bruck's hopes of impressing you were dashed. He was unbearable after that, most especially to me. And the more I heard his rantings and saw him become obsessed with wanting to impress you and to become your padawan, the more frightened I became. Not because of what it meant for Bruck, but for what it meant for me. 

/I was close to thirteen then, Master. And the more Bruck talked about wanting you for his master the more I realized that *I* wanted you for my master. I had never tried to show off for you, had never even approached you as other trainees had done. I had even shied away from you on several occasions. But suddenly there was a longing growing in my heart—a longing I finally traced back to the day I first saw you through three-year-old eyes—and meditation after meditation showed me that that longing was a need to have you in my life. 

/With that revealed, I did try to approach you. I tried to convey my feelings to you. But you were as unreachable as I'd seen you with the other trainees throughout the years. I finally convinced myself to reject the idea that you and I were meant to be together, but the Force seemed to have other ideas. You were in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my meditations. And always you and I were together. Surely it was a vision of the future. 

/Later, I was to find out that Master Yoda was having the same sort of visions. When I was sent to the Agricorps, he arranged for you to be there as well. And although it was a long time before you would accept me as your padawan, I knew our separate paths were destined to be one…/ 

Obi-Wan's chin jerked up from where it rested on his chest, forcing him awake. Reaching up to stop the annoying tickle he felt against his cheek, his fingertips met with a wetness tracking its way from the corner of his eye. Brushing it away, he wondered at his body's ability to manufacture tears when his system was already so depleted of moisture. 

/Oh, Master!/ he thought. /Please be well! You are a good person and a kind master. The Force can't be so cruel as to take one like you out of its living ranks./ But Obi-Wan knew, as he had told Bruck so many years before, that what the Force deemed so was so. And if it chose to take his master from him… 

The sound of a descending ship stopped Obi-Wan's despairing thoughts. From afar he could see sand spraying in every direction, clouds of dust churning up like a small storm as the ship made its landing. In his arms, Qui-Gon began to gasp for breath. 

/Master!/ Qui-Gon's breathing stopped. /Master!/ Obi-Wan placed his mouth upon his master's, providing him with the oxygen his body cried out for. /Don't give up, Master. They're here. They've finally come to take us home. Please, Master! Breathe!/ 

Peripherally, Obi-Wan could hear the pounding of feet across the hard desert sand. Most likely the masters could sense the urgency within him and were responding to it. 

As Master Windu came over one of the dunes, brown cloak swirling the dust wildly behind him, Qui-Gon began to cough. 

/Yes, Master! That's it! Keep breathing! They're here!/ *They're here,* Obi-Wan thought. *We made it. We survived.* Bone-deep relief made his exhaustion total and Obi-Wan collapsed into the sand, cradling his master in his arms. 

For the first time since the chemical had taken over his body, Qui-Gon opened his eyes, meeting his padawan's fading gaze with great effort. 

"My Obi-Wan," he mouthed, and he didn't miss the joyful look on his padawan's pale face as they both lost the battle for consciousness. 

~ el fin ~ 

Feedback? Anything? (padawan_ana@yahoo.com) 

Remember: Barring anything but a natural disaster, there will be a companion piece to this story. It will directly follow the ending here and be from Qui-Gon's viewpoint. And I'd like to have it done within the next month or so… 


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